The Gift
by Quicksilver
Summary: Miaka and Taka WAFF. Takes place between the OAVs (if you follow them) or manga 13 and 14.


The Gift by Quicksilver

  


Quicksilver's Quill Offers   
The Gift   
Author's Note: Takes place BETWEEN OAV 1 and OAV 2. 

I really wish I could describe my girlfriend for you- she's just... she's just... perfect. Everything about her; the scent of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, the way she grins ups at me like I'm her entire world. She's certainly the most important thing to me. Even her faults just add to her overall perfection- sure, she may be a little too enthusiastic at times, and the way she eats certainly cuts deeply into my budget, but they're endearing. I wonder what I did to ever deserve her.   
She assures me that we've met in a past life. She sometimes calls me by another name -Tamahome- but lately, those times have been fewer and farther between. She spins the most outlandish stories of a different land, saying that there I was a warrior who protected her. She even points to the ring I wear on a necklace and says, blushingly, that it is our wedding ring. Someday, perhaps.   
Recently, though, she did something that turned much of my amused tolerence to bemused acceptence. She produced actual evidence.   
We were hanging around her home, and Keisuke was there as well. She was trying to tell me about Chichiri, one of the Seishi she said I had been a brother to. She was describing him as well as she could, but was frustrated by the fact she couldn't tell me exactly what his kasa looked like.   
Keisuke was sitting in a chair, sipping a cup of coffee as he studied a textbook. He looked up and gave me an amused glance, the kind guys share when a female is being silly. "Miaka-baka, you should just show him the photos you took!"   
She blinked a few times, then a curiously abashed grin spread on her gentle face. "Why didn't I think of that?" she wondered, and then she darted to her room, leaving me sitting there, staring like an idiot at Keisuke.   
"She has pictures?" I asked finally, not able to grasp the concept very well. In all her ramblings, she had never seen fit to mention that to me.   
"Hai," Keisuke answered with a secretive smile.   
She came back into the room, clutching a small photo-album to her chest. With a smile she slid down beside me, and I wrapped my arm around her waist, as is our custom. Even though we've only been dating for four months, I feel like I've always done this. I always feel like half of me is missing when we're apart. She looked up at me with those wonderfully green eyes of hers, and her smile was gentle.   
She set the book on her lap, and slowly opened the first page. I was unable to refrain from gasping. It felt like I had just been kicked in the gut. There I was, mugging for the camera between a girl with purple hair and a guy with hair that looked bright orange.   
She giggled. "I wish you could remember Tasuki's reaction to the camera," she said. "Said the guy stole his looks, and he wasn't happy."   
I touched the picture gingerly, almost unwilling to believe. It had been amusing to listen to her tales, but to see this, actual evidence to the truth of her words, made me feel vaguely ill. If she hadn't simply been indulging in a childish fantasy, then it meant I had once been someone else entirely different. It meant that I wasn't who I thought I was. It meant that I had managed to forget the people who had been, according to her, the most important people to me.   
"Tasuki?" I whispered, trying to summon some vague remenant of memory, but failing.   
Her eyes were sorrowful as she touched the face of the red head. "Tasuki," she said. Then her fingers trailed over to the girl. "Nuriko," and her voice was even sadder.   
Nuriko? I looked more closely, realizing that the purple-haired girl was in fact a guy. Supposedly the first of the shichiseishi to die, he had been in love with Miaka... and a cross-dresser, which explained why so many people made the mistake of believing he was a she. I had tried to imagine him once or twice as Miaka spun her stories for me, but I had never come close- Nuriko had a strength that was inherent in his bearing, a_ joie de vive_ that simply radiated at me from the still image.   
Without a word, I turned the page, and was met by the sight of a man wearing a crown. He sat on the bow of a ship's deck, and a few strands of his brown hair had snuck free of their pins. "Hotohori," I said, guessing from the clues. He was certainly a beautiful man.   
Her eyes looked up hopefully at me. "You remember?" she asked easgerly, as eager as a dog with a new bone.   
I shook my head. Carefully I paged through the album, gently examining each of the polaroids. Other faces greeted me, faces which I labeled Chichiri, Mitsukake, and Chiriko. There was even the cat, Tama-chan. They were all there, each of them exactly as she had described to me. My eager eyes drank in the photos. It was odd, to say the least, to see yourself doing things you can't remember, and wearing clothes that were totally foreign. I even had a ponytail, something I had always dreamed of doing, but never had because of dress codes. My hair was a few shades lighter, and seemed almost turquoise, though.   
Finally I came to the end of the book, and to the first group photo. We all looked so happy together. I looked over at her, noticing the tears that streamed down her cheeks.   
"That's my favorite," she said, touching the polaroid.   
"I'm sorry I can't remember for you," I told her, whispering in her hair.   
She shrugged, though I could tell it really bothered her. "I have you, Taka," she said. "That's enough."   
When you love someone, truly love them, you hate to see them sad. I would do anything to keep her from being sad, but sometimes there's nothing I can do, except that I am the cause of it. So all I could do was gather her closer to me, hugging her tightly as she cried quietly.   
Keisuke just looked at us helplessly. When I left that evening, I wished there was something I could do to lighten that hollow look in her eyes, eyes that looked far too old in her young face.   
Her birthday is today, did you know? Sweet sixteen, and I bless her for it. I wanted to make sure I could get her something special, but every idea I came up with was a dud. Finally I decided on something absolutely perfect for her, but I would need help.   
I've been a little unscrupulous at times during my life. Occassionally there's a point where you have to do something underhanded to get what you want. I will freely admit that I shamelessly blackmailed Keisuke to get what I wanted this time.   
I arrived at her house around seven so I could take her out to a private dinner. Yui and a few of her other friends would be over later to help her celebrate later (and I hope they bring two cakes- one for her and one for the rest of us), but for dinner, she was mine alone. She greeted me at the door, lunging eagerly into my arms. I smiled at Yuuki-san, her mother, we left, going over to my car, a small green number that gets great mileage.   
She slid into the passenger seat eagerly, almost sitting on the present I had placed there. "For me?" she asked happily.   
"Iiee.. for Keisuke. Of course it's for you," I teased. "But don't open it yet," I warned her.   
She pouted at me playfully, but the package stayed unopened in her lap. She maintained a cheerful chatter as we headed for a resteraunt, and I only listened with half an ear as I careully navigated Tokyo traffic. Finally we arrived, and I helped her out.   
Dinner was wonderful, though I'm sure my pocket will be a while in recovering. She divided her time between casting longing looks at the package we had brought in, stuffing her mouth with fine French cuisine, and playing footsies with me. It's funny- before her I never would have thought such a simple thing could be so much fun. By the end of the desert, I'm sure both of our faces were slightly flushed.   
Ordering coffee, I finally gave into her pleading look. "You can open it now," I told her.   
Grinning like a little kid, she tossed her hair away from her face with the grace only a woman has. She picked up the package and slowly pealed away the tape.   
It was like slow torture for me- rather then be one of the world's paper shredders the way I would have assumed, she was one of the people who gradually unwrapped it, savoring the moment. As she opened it, I felt a moment of doubt. Was this really a good idea?   
It was too late to do anything about it. She was at the box, and then gently pushing the tissue paper aside. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and her eyes filled with tears.   
In the box was a five-by-seven of the group picture in a silver frame. After Keisuke had borrowed it for me, I had arranged to have it enhanced and blown up. I thought it would make her happy, but seeing her in tears, I realized I had made a major blunder. "Gomen- gomen nasai," I said, mocing my chair over so I could put my arms around her slender shoulders. "I had thought you would like a better copy- the polaroids wear out after a while, you now. But I guess I shouldn't have-"   
She cut me off by placing her finger to my lips. "Iiee, Taka," she said. "I'm crying because I'm happy- this is the best gift you could have given me." She hugged the picture tightly to her chest.   
I looked at her smiling face and couldn't resist it anymore. Uncaring of out fellow diners, I tilted her head back and kissed her gently. The sweet taste of her lips was addicting, but I managed to pull away before we made too much of a spectacle of ourselves.   
I may not be the man she knew back in the Universe of the Four Gods, but I will always love her, no matter what my name may be. We were destined for each other.   
I bent over so I could whisper in her ear. "I love you, Miaka."

END   



End file.
